


No Rest for the Wicked

by DrDings (fellSans)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Mentioned Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fellSans/pseuds/DrDings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel died. It was hunt that he wasn’t supposed to be at and he died, it was your fault or so you thought and now four months later, you still have nightmares about him. You can’t shake them and it feels like there’s something more to them then just terrifying imagery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Rest for the Wicked Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I realize that you probably don't want to read all of the mistakes and continuity errors that are rampant in this fic so I'm going through and fixing them. One of these days I need to get me an editor.

**_“Castiel!…” “CASTIEL!”_ **

 

You woke up with a sheen of sweat on your forehead, the beaded liquid sticky against your now cool skin. Something woke you up and you were sure you had screamed a second ago but you couldn’t remember what. The bed you lay in wasn’t something you were used to yet and it still felt foreign to your body so with a large stretch you sat up, your vertebrae popping back into place. Shakily you wiped the sweat off your face and slid yourself out of bed and into the worn slippers you kept just for these situations. The bunker was nice but cold sometimes. Since your clock was all the way on the other side of your room, analog, you walked over and peered at the small painted numbers…3 AM… It wasn’t the ideal time to be waking up but lately, it was as good on sleep as you were going to get. You trod over to your door next and flipped the light switch on, the bright light temporarily blinded as you held your hands up to shield your face. Not dark enough… You shook your head and padded next to your dresser, slipping on one of your button down shirts in a deep purple without buttoning it and slipped a pair of sweats over your undies. Despite looking like hell warmed over you didn’t comb your hair or grab a shower but you simply walked over to the library. That nightmare, it was happening more and more often these days and you couldn’t shake it away. It was only four months since Castiel died on that hunt that he wasn’t even supposed to be on but it plagued you, wouldn’t let you sleep, and tonight was no exception.

 

The library was the place you’d come to relax, to clear your head and distract you enough to either wake up fully or fall asleep again for a few hours. It seemed though, you’d be awake the rest of the day. You perused the shelves until you found a copy of an old medieval manuscript about dragons and started to read, taking it to the table. Half an hour passed of you reading before you put the book down. A noise came from across the library and you peered around the shelves to see Sam perusing the shelves much like you did earlier. He grabbed a rather thick book on Greek gods before heading to the table much like you did.

“Y/N! I didn’t realize you were up.” Sam half smiled and set the book down.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep…” You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back in the chair slightly.

“It was Cas again wasn’t it?” He asked, always observant. You merely nodded and stood up, putting the book back on its shelf. Sam sat down across from your chair as you did and leaned forward a bit. “You know, we all miss him.”

“It’s not that simple Sam.” You quipped in your still semi-tired state.

“I didn’t say it was Y/N. Look, I know how much you loved him and how you never got to tell him he was it for you, I get that, I really do but there has to be something Dean and I can do to help you sleep better. Trust me, that road isn’t fun.”

You simply nodded, wishing right now that your angel would swoop in, wrap his wings around you and tell you he was home but no, nothing, not even a single whispered word to you. It hurt you deeply, a wound in your very soul that would not ever heal and you never even got to tell him. “I want them to go away Sam, it’s been four months and I still can’t get that image out of my dreams. What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t sleep for more than four hours most of the time as it is and these nightmares keep me up even more than that.”

Sam sighed and gave a small defeated shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you Y/N. All I can suggest right now are some meds to help you sleep.”

You shook your head, you didn’t want them, drugs were the last thing on your agenda. You had to take care of this on your own and if you didn’t, well to hell with it.

“Y/N.” Sam’s voice was soft, barely above anything audible and you could tell how much this hurt him to see someone he loved as a sister hurting so badly, hell, it seemed everyone in this messed up family had lost the love of their lives at some point or another and now it was Y/N’s turn. He leaned back a bit in his chair and opened his arms, offering a comforting brotherly hug that you gladly accepted. His large frame wrapped itself around your small one easily and you sat on his lap, leaning your whole self against him. Sam smelled of woods and old parchment with a bit of men’s deodorant but it was comforting, like your grandfather’s house or the smell of your favourite blanket coming out of the dryer. You pressed your face to his chest and started softly sobbing, four months he’d been gone but it was torture and you haven’t gotten over him nor did you think you ever would. Something though plagued the thoughts on your backburner, these nightmares weren’t going away and it was always the same thing, they didn’t even feel right but they terrified you. It was almost as if these dreams were trying to tell you something but you didn’t want to know what. A few minutes passed before Sam let you go and you quietly slipped back to your own chair. He grabbed his book, held it up in a bit of a wave before smiling at you and walking out of the library.

 

               You didn’t know how long you slept but it was long enough that Dean was shaking you awake.

“Y/N!”

 

“Hnnnnn?”

“Y/N!”

No answer.

“Y/N!” Dean shouted loudly and shook you again, you awoke with a start and lashed out at him, wildly flailing your arms in hopes to knock away your assailant but thankfully Dean grabbed you and kept you from nocking his nose out. “Hey, Y/N, its Dean and its late. We have things to do today so rise and shine babycakes.”

You blinked and realized it was Dean waking you up and you scrubbed y/e/c colored orbs encrusted with last night’s apparently uneventful sleep. “Already? Its only like what, 9 am?”

“No its more like 12 PM. Sam thought you should sleep as long as we could let you but it’s time we get you up and adam. We got pancakes in the fridge and Sam’s kept the coffee pot on.”

Thank god for coffee. “You should have woken me up Dean, I hate sleeping through my morning.”

He shrugged and helped you out of your chair that you gratefully accepted. It felt like each of your joints had some not quite dried concrete lodged in them and it made it hard to move. For once you couldn’t remember what you dreamed and that felt like a plus. Maybe the problems you were having were finally going to be gone and the thought made you smile.

“Was that a smile Y/N?”

“What? No… I was, uh, yawning.” You mimicked a yawn and Dean chuckled once.

“Yeah yeah and my pants are orange.”

You laughed back and walked back to your room for some normal clothes and a towel for a quick shower. Today, you felt like a new woman.


	2. No Rest for the Wicked Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your nightmares have been keeping you up the past four months. They were about Cas who’d died four months ago. After a relaxing day at the park, you have another nightmare only this time, you’re not so sure its just a dream.

                “Welcome to Tradewinds Fish Fryers, care to try our new Freaky Fish Fun Meal for 5.99?”  
“Anyone up for Freaky Fish?” Dean asked from the driver’s seat of the Impala.  
Silence.  
“I’ll take that as a no.” His lip twitched up slightly and he shrugged, turning back to the open window. “We’ll take a large coke, light ice and uh…” He turned around again. “How many cookies we want?”  
“Just get 20 of em, I know you can knock back at least 8 of them yourself Dean.” You replied with a bit of a grin.

Dean grinned at you, turning back to the window yet again. “Make it 25 of your chocolate chunk cookies and two large cokes no ice.”  
“We have a large coke light ice, 25 chocolate chunk cookies and two large cokes no ice.”  
“Yep.”  
“9.82 on the second window please.”  
Dean pulled forward and you hung your arm out your window, the three of you had smiles on your faces and after actually going to see a movie earlier you stopped for some cookies at the only fast food joint to actually sell good cookies. It was a good day; you felt refreshed and could take on anything right now, invincible. Part of you thinks Sam might have set something up with Dean to give you a much needed day off, what with the last few weeks being a bitch of a hunting excursion; what the three of you thought was just a ghost turned out to be a Tulpa. So today was a welcome respite from the life of the hunt.

“9.82 please.”  
Dean handed her a rumpled ten dollar bill and a few seconds later the steaming bag of fresh cookies passed through the open window of the Impala and your blissful coke, no ice because when the ice melts the watery residue stuck on the top tastes like ass.  
“Thank you god for the invention of body rotting chemicals that give you blessed doses of caffeine.”  
“Yeah well, just be thankful it’s not a diet soda, those are worse.” Sam replied, taking his coke, light ice from Dean.  
“Thanks health journal monthly, I’ll keep that in mind.”  
You gave a hearty laugh from the backseat as Dean drove away, blasting one of his old Def Leppard tapes. It’s been too long since you’ve felt this light and happy, 2 years is a long time to mourn but mourning the loss of an angel well, that’s another story. The three of you drove down the city street looking for an abandoned park or something to sit in for a while; a place to relax that wasn’t a motel room or Baby’s hot leather seats and eventually even with the music playing the three of you fell into a silence.

                The park the three of you found wasn’t any more than a grassy area next to a river with a picnic table and old rusted grill. It had a lone tree that felt cold to sit under but the sun shining a short few steps away burned hot. Before Dean could shove the keys to the Impala into his jeans pocket, you snatched them from his hand and walked to the trunk, opening it with a pop.  
“Y/N?” Dean asked, Sam already at the bench with the cookies.  
“I’m getting a blanket, if I’m going to sit on the grass I don’t want to wind up with dirt all on my cookies.”  
Dean’s hearty chuckle sounded behind you but stopped when he saw that dirt old tan trench coat sitting amongst your things.  
“Y/N, you need to put that thing away for good.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” You shifted on your feet, obviously lying, you purposefully kept Cas’ coat in your bags just in case maybe one day he could possibly come back; it wasn’t going to happen and those nightmares you kept having told you as much. There was no way you’d get rid of the thing now.

“Look, as much as we all want him back, he’s not coming back. We’re pretty sure once an angel dies, he’s dead, permanently. Maybe if you get rid of the coat the nightmares’ll go away too Y/N.” Dean’s voice didn’t sound too hopefully but both him and Sam wanted to get you back to a regular sleeping schedule. The nightmares stared about five months ago, you even switched rooms about three weeks ago just to try and fix the problem, because that room was yours and Castiel’s and you know that bad feelings are tied to places, things and everything else under the sun. You sighed and grabbed the blanket, slamming the Impala’s trunk shut.  
“Dean don’t, don’t lecture me about this now. I’m not getting rid of it, not now. There has to be another way around this because I am damn sure that these nightmares aren’t something I can control. They’re like, they’re like the visions Sam used to have from what you’ve told me, cept it’s always the same thing. I can’t, I can’t do anything about them.” You held the blanket tighter to your chest, Y/E/C orbs tilted to the ground staring at Dean’s scuffed boots.

“Fine, I won’t lecture you but we’re doing something about those damn dreams. I’m sick of you not sleeping well and I can’t do anything to help.” Dean placed his hand on your shoulder and the two of you walked over to Sam who helped you and Dean spread out the large blanket. All three of you took a corner spreading out on the somewhat scratchy surface before digging into the deliciousness of fast food chocolate chunk cookies.  
“God, these are the best cookies five bucks can buy, seriously.”  
“You say that about every cookie we get Dean.” Sam grinned, breaking a chocolate chunk off his first of many cookies.”  
“Yeah but I mean it, these are the best. Don’t you think so Y/N?” The eldest Winchester turned to you with his eyebrows raised expectantly, hoping you’d answer in his favour.  
You thought for a second, the obvious silence dragged on for a few seconds. “Well, Sam does have a point, you do say that about nearly every cookie we come across.”  
Dean’s face fell and he groaned. “You were supposed to agree with me!”

Sam grinned widely and started laughing, you joined in while Dean mock pouted on the opposite corner to you.

 

                 After the cookies, the three of you stayed at the park for a while longer just talking, hashing out problems, re-hashing old ones, reminiscing… The works. So, by the time you were done it was about five ‘o’clock. Dean drove the trio of you home, no music blaring through Baby’s speakers. The ride home felt melancholic and every tree, every green field and building you past along the way looked just a bit grey like the colors leaked out ever so slightly. Sure you had a fantastic day but there was a rock forming in your core, something hard and heavy that weighed you down and you knew what it was you just didn’t want to have to deal with it. All you wanted to do was shove the problem of your nightmares to the backburner and just get back to living a normal life with the boys, find a case, go gank some shit. Hell you’d even be welcome for that Tulpa again just so you could have something to keep you occupied. But you knew that there’d be a dry spell, there always was when you had something rare like that crop up and considering the other hunters around they’d go after the smaller cases leaving you and the Winchesters high and dry. As the grey scenery whizzed by the sky clouded over and by the time you reached the bunker, Baby sliding into the garage, it started to rain. It was one of those waterfall rains as well, drenching everything in seconds and you were glad you were inside.  
“I’m heading to my room, gunna lie down for a bit.” You sighed as soon as you and the boys were out of the car. “Not feelin so hot.”  
“Well, let us know if you need anything.” Sam replied with a worried look on his face. He pursed his lips and looked at Dean who looked at his younger brother with an equally worried expression.

 

                You flopped onto your bed the moment you entered your room and stared up at the stucco ceiling. Maybe the key to all this is  just getting rid of his trench coat, burning it hunter style and get rid of the bad mojo. Maybe… A groan escaped your Y/L/C lips and you rolled over on your pale blue sheets, that was one of Cas’ favourite colors; it reminded him of a cold winter morning and how you snuggled up to him before fully waking up just to keep warm. You curled into yourself clutching your legs to your chest, your forehead pressed into your knees and soon enough not knowing you’d fallen asleep like that, you were dreaming.

 _Colors seeped out of the world, black and white painted on a canvas that for the most part had nothing but thin, wiry trees poking up from the ground like spikes, half dead and broken. What you could only assume was sand spread out endlessly in front of you and no matter how far you walked; it was always the same scene. The blinding white sun glowed overhead and you felt its heat slowly burning you up from the inside. Ahead, a figure stood with a white coat flapping around in a breeze not felt or seen and his hair dark as the bleached colors would allow followed the motions of his coat. His image, ‘His, no, he’s a male. He’s always a male, always is.’ You thought with a tilt of your head, a trait you picked up from someone, who? ‘You there! Who are you?’ You spoke without sound, your lips moved but no sound came out. The world, monochrome and deaf; a lump caught in your throat and you tried to swallow but it wouldn’t go away. The figure took a step forward; you ran forward. Your long legs stretched out below you and your bare feet that you just noticed dug divots in the sand but you weren’t getting anywhere. The scene never changed and the figure stood that much farther away from you. A soundless scream tore out of your throat as you fruitlessly kept running, you had to get to whoever that was, that much you knew but frustration ripped you to pieces. You stopped running, the figure took another step, you turned around. Wrong move. The figure twitched like some bizarre skip in a movie and he then stood 20 ft from you. You screamed, silent and agonizing; it was Cas, not in the way you knew him but it was your angel. You tried moving, backing away from him but you couldn’t move. His face tilted in the way he always did but his face stood still, straight lined and blank… His eyes, god his eyes weren’t there. They looked burned out of his skull like any normal angel smiting but, they were black as a demon’s and bled black ooze you could only assume was blood. Cas opened his mouth to speak but his lips didn’t move as this piercing almost inaudible sound rang through your ears. It had his vessel’s voice mingled in and you could hear what he was saying but, it was twisted and blackened. Three or four lower octaves of his voice resonated through the piercing screeching and you covered your ears but the sound pushed through and stabbed its way into your brain._  
“Y/N. I am coming for you. I will always come for you. I life. In death. In non-being. I will come for you. I will find you.”  
‘What are you saying? Cas I’m frightened!’ Again no sound poured from your lips as you stumbled over yourself suddenly, sobbing heaving wracking sobs that offered no noise.  
“I will find you Y/N. You cannot hide…”  
‘CAS!’ ‘CASTIEL!’

 _**“CASTIEL!”**_ Your eyes wretched open and you sat up, the figure of Castiel in your dreams stood before you, blank and non-expressive, those blank eyes staring at you.  
_“I have found you Y/N.”_ His body flickered, that voice sounding the same as it did in your dreams.

This time, your screams echoed in the room.


	3. No Rest for the Wicked Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your nightmares have taken a turn for the worse and weird and you and the boys decide to do something about it.

                Almost as soon as the figure was there, he was gone, his image flickering out like the dream, skipping like an error in the tape. You felt him there, another presence in the room and it felt odd like another place all together was shifting through to this world but it was gone the minute Cas spoke.

“Cas!?” … “Don’t do this, please... Castiel!” Your heart broke, and so did your hard shell you tried to keep from being afraid; terror gripped you like a vice and your voice reflected this, it shook like your body.  The boys were at your door a half minute later and you immediately ran into Sam’s arms, who tightly held you against him.

“What happened?” His voice was painted with worry. Dean scouted around the room and once he couldn’t find anything he turned around to look at you curled into Sam’s arms.

“Cas was here. He was… He was here, I saw him but he. Oh god his eyes… What have they done to him… Oh god…” You were blubbering, trying to calm yourself down.

“What?”

“He was here … I saw him here. He said he found me... God, I’m scared...”

“We’re right here; nothing’s going to hurt you.” Sam replied, engulfing you with his strong, protective embrace. In all your years of hunting, you’ve seen very weird shit happen. Hell you’ve seen just about everything thanks to your involvement with the Winchesters and Castiel, but never in your entirety have you broken down like this. That’s what Cas loved about you most, your unwavering strength and for him, you were his pillar when he needed it and those rare moments when you were slipping, he helped hold you up. This is one of those times only Sam was the one to hold you up (literally). Dean spent a good five minutes just looking around the room with his eyes before returning to the room with the EMF meter, it whizzed like crazy but it stopped after a while, then picked back up again… A confused frown downturned his features and his brows furrowed, this, this wasn’t normal.  He scrubbed a hand through his hair and sat down on the edge of your bed; Sam let you go and walked you over to your bed. You sat down and still looked visibly shaken, you knew something wasn’t right, something that wasn’t your normal ghost or spirit or anything but it was here and it wasn’t going away.

“What did this thing look like?” Dean finally said, pocketing the EMF meter. His brows were still drawn in confusion.

“It’s not a thing, it was Cas. He looked like Cas except for his eyes, they were gone, burned out or something I don’t know… They were gone like someone replaced them with black, and they were oozing something black like Leviathan goo…” You involuntarily shuddered through your trembling body.

“It has to be some kind of spirit because if it weren’t the EMF wouldn’t have gone crazy; these rooms are free of extra electrical interference. Why don’t we go scour the library and see what we can find?” Sam suggested, trying. Most of the time the boys would’ve written this encounter off as a remnant of the nightmare but this time, they knew it wasn’t because you never got this terrified... never.

“No, it was Cas…” Your voice felt stiff, hardened in your convictions, you know what you saw and there was no way a wayward spirit could have penetrated the bunker’s security. Cas however, that was a different story. With a short huff of a breath, you dragged your hand through Y/H/C hair, tousling the strands slightly. Sam stood up and helped you up off your bed and Dean grunted while he stood from your blue hued sheets.

                You and the Winchesters hastily wandered your way through the Men of Letter’s library pulling any angel lore and spirit lore from the shelves that they could get their hands on. Soon there was almost an entire stack of books piled a foot high covering nearly an entire table. Dean slowly perused through a book about strange cases of a spirit being able to invade someone’s dreams and force them to do things whilst Sam leafed through a general guide on spirits that the Men of Letter’s wrote a long, long time ago. You on the other hand had decided to pull a rather thick, leather bound tome about angelic lore dating back to the medieval ages; how the Men of Letter’s kept such a thing in pristine condition was beyond you. The dry, dusty pages offered nothing and your mind began to wander as you absently turned another page.

                “No Cas, we’re not flying today.”

Castiel tilted his head as per his usual confused facial expressions and shifted the weight around his legs slowly. “And why aren’t we? Flying is a much faster way to get somewhere and-“

You cut him off by pressing a single index finger to his lips. “You’ll see, we’re driving.”

He grunted once under your finger and slipped into the passenger seat of your old baby blue beetle, it was warm enough to have the top down so before you plopped into the driver’s seat you unlatched the canvas and flipped the entire thing back into the holdings with little effort. Sometimes on colder days it stuck a little much like it was alive and its rain elbow was acting up. You grinned up at Cas in the passenger seat who turned and grinned back at you in his altogether rare blindingly happy grins that melted your heart. Y/H/C tresses today were neatly pulled back with a few hair clips and bobby pins for those few stubborn strands and yet as you sat down in the driver’s seat, Cas tucked that last bit of hair that never stayed in place behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek for just a second. Cas never quite knew what being human really felt like, his mind was all stars and things larger than even the most gifted of minds could comprehend but in these small tiny moments, you always seemed to make him feel not quite so vast.

 

“Y/N.”

The sky rolled out above you as the two of you spread out on your famous picnic blanket. Castiel stretched his muscled limbs out along the dark grey fabric and you rested your head in his lap. The angel tilted his head and spread a most loving lopsided grin down at you and you reached up to cup his cheek, gently stroking his stubbled chin with your thumb.

“Y/N!” Dean called louder this time, snapping you out of your little memory. You jerked your head up from the old dusty pages and stared almost completely past Dean before you focused and turned your gaze at him in full.

“What is it?” Your voice wavered slightly. “Did you find something?”

“According to Thaddeus T. Dawkins, ‘…certain spirits trapped in this realm because of person(s) they have attached themselves to may enter said person(s) dreams like stepping into another room. ‘” Dean did his best stuffy 1900’s librarian impression as he read through that section of the report. “So I’m thinkin’ that maybe Cas or whatever it really is has attached itself to you somehow and has been using your dreams for somethin’.”

“But vengeful spirits usually try and go after the person who they feel is responsible for their death...” You stopped. “You don’t think….”

Dean cast you a sidelong glance, sharply inhaling through his nose. Sam glanced up at you from his book mirroring Dean’s expression.

“Let’s not rule that possibility out Y/N.” The youngest Winchester knew Cas didn’t hold you responsible for his death, but at the same time there wasn’t anything they could do to disprove it either. You stretched, clasping your hands and upturning them high above your head with a groan vibrating your chest.

 “Great so theory number one is that Cas is attacking my dreams because he thinks I’m the reason he died… Doesn’t explain how he…” You swallowed hard and turned your attentions to the wall instead of the two Winchesters seated at the other end of the libraries table. With another huff you shook your head lightly, this wasn’t the direction you needed to go, that wasn’t a ghost Cas or spirit or whatever other existential being. Whatever Cas was could do much more than a ghost could and you had this feeling, instincts that told you otherwise. Dean gave an apologetic shrug and the three of you went back to work.

 

                A few hours passed and 9:30 clicked its way onto the clocks of the bunker before anyone knew it. Your stomach gave a rather large rumbling gurgle and quite obviously slammed the angel book shut after glazing over the last half dozen chapters with mild disinterest. “Guys, we’re not getting anywhere... Whatever the Men of Letters have in this library on angels, ghosts or whatever else we’re dealing with isn’t getting us what we want and right now all I want is some food.”

The boys simultaneously looked up from their case files and turned towards you.

“Pizza run?” Dean asked, standing from his chair. “I’ll grab us some beers too while I’m out and pie. Y’all want anything else?”

You shook your head and Sam replied with some spew of garden veggies the fridge was lacking for his salad fixings. Dean grunted and mumbled something about green foods looking more like vomit than food and walked off to the garage.  Sam flipped the file closed and walked over next to you, sitting down in the empty chair occupying the space to your right.

“How’re you doing Y/N?” He asked, concerned for your state of mental wellbeing.

“Eh... I’m doing. Its research Sam, books and books and books of things that may or may not have what we’re looking for.”

“Not what I meant.” He chuckled lightly.

“I’m doing. And I think you and Dean are just trying to humor me just to placate me.”

Sam’s face soured slightly. “I’m not, not really. Yeah, we want to see you back to normal and I’m sure Dean doesn’t think that this is what you say it is but I’ve seen my fair share of weird in my lifetime and this definitely sounds like the kind of weird that would happen to us.”

With a sigh you replied. “Course it does. Winchester rule #3: if it’s bizarre, it’ll happen to us.”

Sam couldn’t help but crack a bit of a smile and nod in agreement.  “That’s true.” He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, tracing the crenellation pattern’s with his eyes, dips and swoops and good old 40’s-50’s style columns. “You know Y/N? What if that thing with Cas isn’t what we think it is… I mean, you have this gut instinct that says it’s actually Cas. Dean seems to think it’s some weird spirit and I don’t know what to think.”

“I told you, I know its Cas. It’s just, not him. Well, not him him... He felt twisted? I think that’s the right word to use...” You felt slightly fuzzy on how to describe it, you knew what it felt like but any of the words you thought of didn’t seem to be accurate enough. “Corrupt maybe...”

Sam cast you one of his dubious sidelong glances. “He’s an angel though. Angels are supposed to be beings of holy grace or something, like beings of light. I don’t think they can get corrupted.”

“We don’t know all there is to know about them though, Cas told me that what we knew of the angels was severely limited and we’re too narrow minded to understand it all. Meaning that there are things we just can’t comprehend and I think this is one of them.”

 

                Dean came back a short while later, 20 minutes or so, with two pizzas and two six packs of a local brew beer. The veggies Dean said would have to wait till tomorrow, the store was out of most of them according to him. Sam was skeptical and you figured this was retaliation for Sam forgetting to get Dean pie all the time. The group of you tore into the food despite Sam and his ungodly desire for healthy things he chowed down on the pizza regardless. “So.” He started with a partial mouthful of pizza. “Did anyone find anything that has to do with this Cas situation?”

Dean shrugged, putting his beer down. “No, and I’m beginning to think that we won’t find jack in this damn bunker. The Men of Letters have info on just about anything we could ever hope to know about but angels? Squat, bubkes. Hell, we didn’t even know about them until a few years ago. I’m surprised they even have a lore book that Y/N’s been digging into.”

“If you count most of its information as fake and heavily skewed by religion then sure, lore book." You reached over an empty bottle and grabbed another slice of pizza. "Why don't we call it a night and continue with this tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan. Sam can go scour the internet and I'll go call some other hunters, maybe they know something we don't."

Sam pursed his lips slightly before taking another swig of his beer. “I don’t know what I’ll find there that we don’t already know here. I’ll give it a shot though, can’t hurt.”

“Good.” You quickly said before taking a large bite of the gooey cheesy goodness in your hands.


	4. No Rest for the Wicked Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a week of nothing but searching, you see Cas again but this time you have at last found a lead or so you think.

                Morning came too soon as it always decidedly does and after a large breakfast of bacon, ham on toast and more coffee than it takes to sink a college kid during finals you finally felt awake enough to function. Once you tiredly trudged through breakfast the first thing you did was hop over to the library and searched through the books again to find even a tiny shred of anything to help them figure out what was wrong with Cas or what was happening. Still, nothing. Sam searched the internet all day; Dean exhausted both his and Bobby’s lists of hunters and nothing from them either. Not a shred of info anywhere. The day ticked by and they started again the day after. Again, nothing, day after that nothing. Four days passed without any shred of lore, no information not even some rumors or poems written in old English, absolute bubkes. The three stayed shut ins for nearly a week going through whatever resources they could get their hands on, the library was in chaos, the kitchen was a bit of a mess even though  Dean attempted to clean it up before passing out for the night. By the end of the week, you all looked like a mess but being shut-ins for the whole time wasn’t helping any. So, come Saturday night you were about ready to stop all together and call whatever you saw and heard a remnant of your nightmare when you turned and saw the flutter of a coat around a corner. There he was, standing there in all his glory as if he’d never left, his posture open and his head tilted upward as if looking for some guidance from his father. Even with his back turned toward you, you knew what he’d look like if he turned around. With a choked sob you reached your hand out towards him. “What have they done to you?” And he disappeared leaving behind a scrap of paper. You sank to the floor and sort of stated ahead at the wall at the end of the hallway. A blank, dazed expression settled onto your features and you felt conflicted, relived that whatever this was wasn’t just in your head and terrified that he was here and could have done whatever it is he wanted to you without lifting a finger. You swallowed thickly and got up enough to crawl over to the paper, picking it up. Y/E/C orbs darted around the page and upon further inspection you found out it was part of a brochure for a motel in a place called Mooreville Illinois famous apparently for its riverside market. With a rush of an idea flooding every waking thought, you stood up crunching the paper in your hand as you shoved it in the pocket of your crappy running shorts. Cas wanted you to go to Mooreville; why else would he leave a clue like that on the ground? The instant that thought crossed your mind you knew what you had to do and sprinted off towards your room.

                The hallways of the bunker were convoluted and hard to maneuver around if you don’t either have a map or have lived there for a year or more. Not to mention that it was big enough that you could sneak around people if you had to and that’s exactly what you did. Your room was on the other side from one of the storage rooms and to get to it, you had to either take a back route or head straight through the library and the back route was where you went. Thankfully you were wearing your slippers and the soft soles made no noise as you sprinted down the hallways. What you needed to figure out after packing was how you were going to leave without alerting the brothers as to your disappearance or the loss of one of the cars that wasn’t yours. All the logistics of escaping the bunker un-noticed muddled your brain enough that you weren’t paying much attention to what was in front of you as you rounded a corner and ran straight into Dean.  
“Woah there, the hell you off to in such a hurry?”  
With a half grimace, half embarrassed smile you replied effortlessly, “My room, heh...” You felt like you were caught red handed trying to nick the last piece of pie from Dean’s private store but he didn’t reprimand you or give you any funny looks, he just sort of detached you from him and made sure you were ok with his eyes combing over your figure once. “Sam and I are done goin through the library. We’re running out of resources and I’m getting headaches if I have to look at another book again.”  
“I know the feeling...” You replied, shifting your weight around onto your other foot.

“The only thing we haven’t done is call that son of a bitch Crowley...” Dean nearly growled as he spat the king of hell’s name out, he _really_ didn’t like him at all what so ever and the thought of having to go to him for answers sent the feeling of spiders crawling over his skin racing down his nerves.  
“If you have to talk to him do it, I trust you.”  
“It’s not that Y/N, it’s him. I don’t trust him as far as I could throw a pig...” He gave you a sidelong glance. “Look, I know you want to figure this out but I want him to be our last resort, sure he’s old as fuck and knows more about things than we do but no. He’ll find a way to screw us over, he always does.”  
“But if he can help Cas...” You raised your hand to sorta point to him if he were here. “Just, if you can do it, watch your back.”

“Your?”  
“Our, look, I’m worn down to threads right now Dean, I’m going to go for a drive, clear my head. I’ve been breathing book dust for too long and my head’s all fuzzy.”  
Dean grunted. “Thought you were going to your room...”

You dragged your hands down your body motioning to the crappy running shorts and bleach spotted blue tank top, all over you had a sort of ragged appearance, your Y/H/C tresses messily wound into a bun at the back of your head, the strands were loose and poking out every which way, your eyes were slightly droopy and dark circles smudged under your eyes. “I’m a mess, I wanna change at least before I go out.” With a quick step you walked past him toward your room, he moved for you and watched with a semi-worried stare as you turned right around the corner and heard your door just about slam shut.  


                Not too long after that Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, a scruff of beard itched on his face from the week or so of being a shut in. He supposed they all were a little scraggly and ragged and could use some time off from this puzzling and mind-blowingly vague whatever it was. It certainly wasn’t a case because it was ‘Cas’ but it most certainly wasn’t just for fun either. Dean scrubbed his hand over his face again and through his mess of sandy hair. “I need a drink....” “SAMMY!”

 

                The boys didn’t know you were still gone until you didn’t come back for dinner, Alfredo Pasta with chicken and of course, more beer. Dean hoped that the cheesy carbs would help settle your spirits enough to keep you back on track but when you didn’t respond to a buzz over the loud speaker they found a while ago tucked away in a small room, he and Sam started to panic a little. Sam was the first of the two to get to your room, your cell phone sat on your desk with a small note. He quickly picked it up and glanced over it once, he’s never seen you act this irrationally, even when toasted and burnt out. “Dean! Get in here!”

Not a minute later Dean ran into your room in soldier mode, taking a few seconds to ease out of it once he figured out no one was in immediate danger. “What’s wrong Sam?”  
Sam handed him your note which he read over a few times.  


_“Hey you two, I’ve got a lead. I saw Cas a while ago today before I left and he dropped a scrap of paper from a motel in Illinois. I’m going to check it out, you two don’t need to go, hence why I left my phone I know how you two like to mess around with the GPS settings. I also took the tracker out of my bug, thank you Dean for that... I don’t know when I’ll be back but I intend to follow this as far as it will take me, if I need you I’ll call from pay phone if I can find any. I don’t care if you don’t trust him, talk to Crowley, summon him in the dungeon so he’s stuck in the trap if you have to. Squeeze all the information from him that you can, I won’t let his knowledge go to waste. Also, don’t find me, I need to do this on my own._

_~ Y/N”_

“Son of a bitch... We gotta find her Sam.”

“Yeah, she’s all messed up right now, worse than the purgatory mess and that hit her harder than a ton of bricks. You weren’t there but she almost turned into me without my soul...” Sam sighed. “At least she’s not given up yet.”

“I don’t care, she’s being impulsive and stupid. We need to find her before she gets herself into trouble, we’re a family and I’m sure as hell not going to let her dive into this alone. We’re in it together or not at all.” Dean had taken a defensive stance and wasn’t going to back down, if you got yourself killed and he couldn’t have done anything about it, Dean didn’t know what he would do. The youngest Winchester grabbed your cellphone and shoved it in his pocket.  
“Fine, let’s say we do go find her. What do we do then; lock her up in her room till we figure this out? She’s a grown woman and can make her own decisions. I know you want to do the right thing but she’s got a good head and I want to trust her instinct.”   
Dean looked about ready to storm out of the room but he didn’t, instead he let out a defeated sort of grunt and slumped his shoulders a little. “Fine, but at the first sign of anything, we go find her. Also, call Crowley, that son of a bitch owes us a favor...” And with that he turned around and walked out of your room.


	5. No Rest for the Wicked Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mooreville Illinois, a tiny homespun town nestled on the Mooreville River south and east of Chicago a ways. This is where you think Cas wanted you, and that’s where you intend to look.

                Mooreville Illinois was a small but cheerful town close to the eastern border near somewhat to Chicago. It had a small river running straight through its downtown and the market was of course as impressive as they said filled with all manner of things from fresh fruit to little crocheted doilies and candles that smell like peaches. You parked your bug at the local diner’s parking spots down the main drag and walked over to see all the splendors that a riverside market could hold. As you smelled your way past the roasted almond stand, you couldn’t help but think back to the solo hunts you used to do before tangling with the Winchesters and Castiel. Sure it was nice not to be so stuck under someone’s wing but it made you more lovesick and wish that your angel could see the splendors of this lovely little riverside market. With a gentle smile and a fresh outlook plastered on your face, you turned to the nearest vendor, a little table selling painted glass, and asked where the local motel was, the man in his early 60’s smiled and pointed you in the direction of the Sundown Inn near the outside of town. You thanked him and slid your hands in the pockets of the skirt you wore, walking from the stand and the market altogether.  Once away from the populous buying homemade goods, you let the façade droop back to your recent gritty attitude and you decided to look at the scrap of paper you kept shoved in your pocket.   


_Come to Mooreville! Where the riverside market has just what you didn’t know you needed and more. Enjoy our hospitality and make sure you try our burgers and pie! Mooreville Illinois..._

The rest was gone and on the back was a picture of a partial river and a swath of leaves covered in dark black ink (marker probably), an address to were you didn’t know. You decided to meander your way through downtown and stop at a coffee shop called The Bean and popped in for a latè. The man at the counter looked like he was born to be a barista and nothing more. He had freckled olive skin, sand blond dreads and a figure both tall and lanky like he needed to eat something but you knew he could eat and eat without gaining any weight.   
“How can I help you?” He smiled down at you.

“Just a small coffee with honey and cream if you can please.” You took a handful of bills from your pocket.

“Sure thing ma’am, 3.75 please.”

You shoved four dollar bills onto the counter and decided while you were shoving the money back into your pocket to show him the address on the back of the crumpled paper. “Hey uh, you wouldn’t happen to know where this is do you? I’m trying to find  a friend and he left  this on my desk.”

His face scrunched up a little as he spooned honey into a bowl sized mug. “Yeah, that’s north of town a short ways near the community college. I think it’s an abandoned art studio or something like it, the strip mall there had a problem a while ago and sorta had to close down as quick as possible, no one’s come back to take care of it. I think your friend might be yankin ya.”

“I’ll go check it out anyways, thank you.” You said, grabbing the mug from him as he passed it over the counter.

“Just be careful ok?” He gave you another smile and you nodded, giving him a terse smile in return, finding a small table near the back corner. The Bean was decorated old style with the long wide floorboards that creaked, old French posters plastered on the walls and a tin roof that had singular light bulbs hanging down. It felt cozy and made you feel right at home. You brought the cup up to your face and inhaled the sweetened, smooth heady scent of the bitter coffee, it was full bodied and smelled better than even Dean could make back at the bunker. A twang of guilt washed through you and you set the cup down, letting out a heavy sigh. You’d essentially ran away from the brothers, going off and doing fuck all and if Dean wasn’t mad at you now, he would be when he found you even though you did your best to keep them from knowing where you went other than Illinois. You even packed clothes you hardly wore, grabbed a spare ID no one knew you had and all the cash in your ceramic penny -bank.  ((300 dollars’ worth)) There’d be no way for them to track you but you knew if Dean had his way he would try or his soul be damned.

 

                With the cup coming to the overly sweet dredges at the bottom of the cup, you thanked he man at the counter again and handed him back the large mug before exiting the place. You walked back to your bug and decided to drive around to find a pay phone, luckily enough, one of the older Bigersons had one  and you stopped at the tiny place, parking next to it. Another heavy sigh slipped past your lips as you slid a selection of coins into the old machine, dialing Sam’s cell, you knew better than to call Dean right now. It rang for a total of two times before Sam answered.

_“Hello, Martin Douglas speaking?”_

“Sam, it’s me. I’m doing fine; I’m going to check out what I have. Don’t let Dean push you into something you don’t want to do ok? He’ll be pushy about it but, don’t find me; I don’t need you to be here.”

 _“Y/N, I’m glad you’re ok. Dean says hi.”_ In the background you could hear Dean wanting to be put on the phone. _“No, Dean just, it’s fine, she’s fine, you have nothing to worry about. Stop it, Dean what are you-”_

 _“Y/N, we’re coming to find you. I don’t care if you said you needed to do this alone or not, you’re in over your head and I know you are. The three of us would have enough problems with it, so, I don’t care if you, or Sam, say otherwise, we’re helping end of story.”_ Dean spoke with all the authority of a concerned parent and you couldn’t help but feel like you wanted to shrink for disobeying your parents but you stood firm and pursed your lips once before replying.

“Dean, I don’t need you to be so overprotective right now. I need your support yes, but you don’t have to coddle me like a child. Yeah I know I’m mostly over my head but I don’t think Cas’ll want to show if you two are there. So far both times he’s shown up when I’ve been alone and I think that’s what he wants so that’s what I’ll give him. I’ll call you two again when I can. For now, stay safe you two.” And with that you hung up and walked back into your bug, driving off back south to the motel to check in for the week. You had enough money in cash that that wasn’t going to be an issue and even if it was, you had _a_ card with you that had your least used ID with the name ‘Holly Richards’ on it. It wasn’t one the boys saw you use all too often and they wouldn’t recognize it. So with that in hand, you marched up to the motel office and booked yourself into a single complete with fridge and microwave, plopped your bags onto the floor next to the bed and laid back on the queen sized bed turning the TV onto some non-descript action movie and before you knew it, sleep claimed you.

 

                Driving any long length of time always _always_ tired you out no matter what else you did during the day or not.  It was all the monotonous things that went along with traveling that wore you out, not persay physical tiredness but a mental weariness that made you feel like you were grey all over and needed a splash of color in the form of some Zzs. Thankfully you had nowhere you needed to be tonight at all and that allowed your post drive nap to commence, until 8:30 PM. With a stiff groan, you groggily lifted yourself from the queen sized bed and stared at the alarm clock that blared in bright red text, you slept for almost a whole four hours. Your stomach growled low and after turning a light on, you reached for the channel guide that conveniently had a pizza menu plastered on the back. After making a phone call for a cheese pizza and a two liter of cola, you turned the T.V to another channel realizing it was on an old TV show that you never liked. The black and white couple arguing over the price of a hat turned into clicks and flashing scenes as you flipped between channels, post travel boredom setting in. You did have a couple of books you had stashed in your travel bags but you’d read those already and those cheepy romance novels lose their appeal after the 8 th read then again most books you read more than a few times lost their appeal after a while. With a huff you settled on an old episode of Stargate on some Sci-Fi channel and lost yourself watching a plot  about a woman being the only one of her tribe and the gang having to save her from getting torn to shreds by her male counterparts for a mating ritual. The basic plot kept you engaged at least until you heard a knock at your door.  
“Pizza Petes!”  
You perked up and hopped off the bed, grabbing the cash you pulled earlier to pay. “Coming!”  
With you opening the door the teen opened his money pouch. “10.74 please.” You handed him exact change plus 3 dollars for a tip smiling. “Thank you, have a nice night.”

“You’re welcome and you too.”

The thoughts of pizza and an ice cold Pepsi to drink warmed your spirits, it was a good idea you came here, now all you had to do was find Cas maybe at this abandoned strip mall. One could only hope.

 

                The next day brought you closer to your goal, the abandoned strip mall north of town. You woke up with a knot in your stomach and heart burn from hell but with a tums and bottle of milk you were good to go at least for the time being. You quickly stepped in the shower and took the quickest lukewarm shower you possibly could since it was about 11AM when you woke up. Five minutes later you were dressed in light colored jeans, your best working grungy tank-top and a thin zip up spring jacket all in matching shades of peach accenting Y/S/C flesh. You’d pulled your still damp hair around into a pseudo bun that you held in place with a large hair clip. The cute little boots you liked to wear you ditched for a good pair of running sneakers you had stowed away from your brief stint as a track and field running as a freshman in college. They may not have been sturdy or protect you from sharp objects around your feet but as far as you were concerned, you weren’t going to be fighting back but you were going to be running and running as fast and as far as you could if things went south. Just to be sure though, your duffle had all the accoutrements you’d need to attempt to fight  back if you had to, salt rounds from Sam and Dean, your sawn off of course, your specially designed iron club for ghosties, your angel blade and of course a super soaker full of holy water. Dread filled your being the second you had your bag packed, what if you didn’t have the means to fight back? What if Cas was something that not even your non-standard tools of the trade would handle? You swallowed thickly and grabbed the room key, clipping it to the carabineer with the rest of your keys in your purse. As you took your bag out to your beetle, the same man from the coffee shop walked around the corner and you had to do a double take. What was he doing here? He recognized you from yesterday and grinned with a wave.

“Hey! Fancy seeing you here! Find what you were looking for?”

“No, I was just heading out to look. What brings you to the motel?” You were curious, he could’t have lived here with such a successful business like that. Then again, he could have been meeting someone or going out for a walk something else.

“My aunt runs the place with my cousin; I help out sometimes when they need it.  Call it repaying for helping me set up The Bean.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pocket with that grin plastered onto his face. His dark blue eyes sparkled in the approaching noon sun and his casual button down (all but the top two buttons buttoned) and jeans he looked quite handsome. Mentally you scolded yourself heavily, how could you find him handsome right now? Cas was still out there, you couldn’t let yourself get attached to a barista in Illinois, the thought sort of sickened you and you shuddered lightly. “You ok?”

“Yeah no, I’m fine; rough morning. You wouldn’t happen to know of any nausea remedies do you?”

“Can’t say that I do, though if it’s a hangover, my coffee helps more than anything else.”

“A salesman even when not at work. I like you. M’name’s Holly, Holly Richards.” You stuck your hand out for a shake and the barista gladly accepted it, firmly grasping your hand and giving it a quick shake.

“Hayden Smith, pleasure meeting you Holly Richards. So, you headed out to the strip mall?” His stance relaxed even further than you thought it could and you nodded, shoving your own hands into your jeans’ pockets.

“Yeah, I got a later start than I wanted but traveling does that to me. I wanna get that out of the way as soon as possible.” You chuckled slightly, trying to ease the unease that still roiled in your belly.  

“Good luck. Oh! If  you need anything while you’re here, feel  free to stop by The Bean, I know this place better than most people.” He grinned again, you swore that grin of his lit the world up  brighter than the sun but at the same time something felt slightly off about it. You chalked it up to your nerves and grinned back at him.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. I better get going, the day’s not getting any younger.”

“Again, good luck and nice seeing you.”

With a nod and your sort of forced, uneasy smile you got into your beetle, cranking the engine over with the small car happily rumbling into life. You gave him a short one handed wave as you pulled out of the motel parking lot, things were going to get hairy and you already felt sick to your stomach. You hoped this was going to pay off.


	6. No Rest for the Wicked Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, an abandoned strip mall would be where Castiel wanted to send you, it was a perfect place to do whatever he wanted, and of course wait for you that is.

                You stopped along the way to pick up some food before you scoped the place out, a yoghurt parfait from one of the gas stations and some chocolate milk, you’d need your energy but at the same time, if you ate anything else right now you’d probably be vomiting in your own shoes.  You stopped at a park much like the one you and the boys stopped at a week or so ago. Was it really that short of a time? It felt more like a month had passed since then; time had a weird way of passing for hunters anyway. Once the parfait was gone or mostly gone rather, you pulled out a quick map of the town you nabbed from the gas station and raked it over with your eyes. Quickly, you were able to pin-point the location of the motel, where the market was and where The Bean was downtown; from there you went north, finding the address that Cas (or someone) scribbled onto the paper.

 _‘5210 North Kekiyak Rd.’_ You thought, tracing a path with your finger along the page, it was of course as Hayden said, north of town.  With the route in your head, you folded the map back up and shoved it in your glove box, pulling your little beetle out of the parking lot.

 

                The drive through town was nice, quiet while everyone was either eating lunch or still working until the late lunch period which made the journey a little more nerve wracking for you. You were going into this blind, alone and blind but there was no other way. It was either this or spending months researching something you didn’t have any shred of info on. This at least, was something concrete to grasp onto, something that would give you an answer but whether or not it was the one you needed was a different story. As you drove through town you couldn’t help but think of the first time you met Castiel. You weren’t part of the Winchester family yet but at the same time, you did hang around them often enough that you all were good, close friends. Castiel was someone you heard about but never got a chance to meet for a while; the angel off doing whatever it was angels did when not helping the Winchesters but, meeting an angel intrigued you. Never in a million years did you expect angels to actually exist even with your father raising you catholic. It was always one of those things you thought was just a tale meant to keep the masses complacent and happy while they fed their followers sort of ok tenants and mostly grandeur and lies. You were ok with it growing up but once you found your own footing, you ditched the religion and decided to be agnostic, knowing god existed but refusing to tie yourself down to any one religion. But, once you found out angels were real, you quickly started to wonder if you had made the right decision all those years ago to leave the church. It wasn’t until you came face to face with the angel you’d grow to love that you stopped questioning. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon while you and the boys were working a case together in a place up in Michigan. The three of you were rummaging around books and newspapers for a case in Sam and Dean’s motel when Cas sort of just fluttered his way into the room. You jumped, fell from your chair with a screech and hit your head on the corner of the bed. Sam immediately came over to help you out but Cas walked over and pressed his fingers to your forehead alleviating the pain sprouting from the now gone goose egg. As was expected, introductions were made and you asked too many questions according to yourself later but Cas was willing to answer if not a little begrudgingly. A guy in a motorcycle cutting you off broke you out of your walk down memory lane and you couldn’t help but lay on your horn and swear once at him even though you hardly ever swore. Quickly glancing around at the street signs, you turned off onto Shillac Street which led over to Kekiyak road. The knot in your stomach resumed its churning and you steeled yourself, whatever was coming was coming and all you could do was wait for it to arrive.

**_*_ **

                “No, I’m looking for a Y/N, Y/L/N, short, Y/H/C hair down to her back and Y/E/C eyes. She dresses smart and looks like one of those small town girls you could bring home to mom...Yes... YES! ...” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose while he had a tense conversation with a manager at a Bigersons in Missouri. He was doing all he could to look for you but you were covering your tracks better than he expected. “I’m going to kill her when I find her....”  He muttered just as the manager got back on the line, he explained no one in the restaurant saw her at all these last few days and with a quick goodbye he hung up. Dean pounded the side of his fist against a concrete wall in the bunker. “Son of a bitch...”

“Still can’t find her?” The younger of the two brothers asked, coming up behind Dean carrying a tray of food for the two of them.

“No and its pissing me off, no one around anywhere has seen her and unless she’s dropped off the grid or is wearing a wig or something, those people are idiots.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket and grabbed the tray from Sam, putting it on one of the library tables.

“You can’t expect them to remember someone they probably saw for maybe a few minutes or so out of their day Dean... Besides, she’s more than likely using one of her fake IDs we don’t know about. She’s also good at disappearing when she wants to.”

“You know what, can it sasquatch, not in the mood for technicalities.  Let’s just eat and I’ll start calling again later.” Dean sighed and slumped into the chair, picking his fork up while he shoveled a lasagna noodle bake into his mouth. Sam cast him a dirty look from across the table as he sat down and started picking at his salad, stabbing several pieces of lettuce at once wishing in a brotherly hate sort of way that it could have been Dean’s temper he was stabbing to bits.

“So, any luck on contacting Crowley?” He asked with a mouthful of lasagna.

“No, he’s either not answering me on purpose or something is keeping him from answering. I’m voting for the first option.”

Dean grunted and took a sip of his beer. “Try again after dinner, if not we’ll have to do it the old fashioned way. Thankfully the dungeon is well equipped.”

It was Sam’s turn to grunt as he popped a grape tomato into his mouth, he’d try again later. If the king of hell didn’t want to return any phone calls, that was more than ok with him.

**_*_ **

                You tentatively pulled into the empty parking lot of the strip mall once called Jameson’s Court. The concrete had cracks and weeds growing in it and the buildings looked derelict and empty for almost a year or more and that thought wasn’t too comforting. At least it wasn’t an abandoned warehouse Cas sent you to. The not too tall glass windows of the old art studio loomed over you as you got out of your car, loading yourself up with your weapons before tightly strapping the super soaker and iron rod to your back with a set of cinch straps. Taking a deep breath, double, triple checking to see if anyone else was around, you quietly made your way into the building, your angel blade tightly grasped in a reverse rip. The doors opened with metallic creaking/groaning. As soon as the door shut behind you, the scents of stale clay and paint flooded your nostrils and left you gagging on the dusty air that choked the breath from you. You could smell the scent of old slightly rotten paper as well and it took everything you had not to heave the small contents of your stomach onto the floor. It looked much like an abandoned art studio would look like, papers strewn everywhere, blank or half painted and ripped canvases scattered around various corners. Paint of all types blotted the counters and walls where the kids messed around and there was a dry and cracking garbage can full of clay.

                 Something almost metallic eventually pierced through the stale smells and you followed where it was strongest, it lead to a storage closet, or what looked like a storage closet. It was metal and had a lock closing the two handles together and shut but you knew it wasn’t a supply closet by the small amount of air you could feel seeping through the bottom crack. Of course it was big enough to fit a single person through and you looked around to see if there was anything around to break this lock off. You thought you had a pair of bolt cutters in your bag but you realized with a groan that you left them in the Impala. Y/E/C orbs darted around the room for something heavy enough to break the lock off, you did have your hand gun tucked into a holster at your hip but you had limited ammo with you and just in case you needed it, you didn’t want to waste what you had. Eventually you spied a large metal cylinder used probably for a press of some sorts for the clay. You tucked the angel blade into your belt quick before bashing the lock off with a few whacks with the roller. The lock fell with a clatter to the floor and you quickly drew the blade again as before, opening the doors in such a manner that no one would be able to hit you right away at least. On baited breath you peered into the ‘closet’ and saw a set of stairs that lead down to somewhere. Any lights that once illuminated the space were now burnt out and dangling on slightly swaying electrical cords from the ceiling. You swallowed hard and closed your eyes for just a split second, closing them to the dread that welled up inside you. “Gah... Grace be with me.” You muttered shakily before taking the first step down. The wood under your foot creaked but it was sturdy and you took another hesitant step downward; it was louder than the last. On the third step you flinched as you felt the stairs shift ever so slightly under you; your nerves were wrecked but you took a deep breath and imagined a large wall of stone surrounding you, it helped you enough that you kept pushing forward.

 

                The bottom of the stairs was just as dark as the rest of the stairs going down, but this time you almost couldn’t see anything. It took about ten seconds for your eyes to adjust and when they did you still couldn’t see much. It reeked of something metallic and at once you realized after a second what it was, the back of your free hand flying to your nose. The scent of blood permeated the confined space of the basement; it was fresh and hadn’t gotten that stale, rotten stench that melts your insides. Your stomach heaved and you gagged, a hair’s breadth away from vomiting right there. You coughed a few times hard, bile simmering in the back of your throat. Desperately, you tried to keep it down, now wasn’t the time to get sick, you had to push forward but if the stench of blood was anything to go by, you figured you stumbled upon the thing you were looking for or some sick nightmare inducing crazy house.  The floors under you were solid concrete, silencing each tentative step you took forward, your eyes continually darted around the semi-corridor. From what you could tell, this was a narrow room with a few doors scattered on each of the walls at random intervals. The more you tiptoed your way through, the heavier the smell of blood became until you came to one of the last doors where it hit you full force and you heaved again, bracing yourself against the wall beside you.

 _‘I’m a hunter, why am I so queasy right now? I haven’t been this bad in a long time, stop it body... I have work to do.’_ You thought, chastising your stomach for betraying you when you needed it most. Taking a few deep breaths, not that it helped much; you tried calming your roiling belly enough to quietly open the door.

                The first thing you saw as the door slowly creaked open was a chair in the middle of the room inhabited by a dead body, the lifeless corpse dangling off of it precariously and oozing out all the blood from its body. From the way the body was shaped and how short the hair was, you knew it was a male, probably in his mid-twenties or younger and more than likely a college kid based off of the shirt emblazoned with an EIU on the front. Next to the chair stood a metal table coated in rust and dry, cracked blood stains and various other goo and human liquids. On it was a few old knives, some hooks and a handful of other sharp objects but then your eyes caught the dull lightless glint of something else. It didn’t have any corrosion or stains on it what so ever, either they favoured that one more than the others and kept it clean or... You stepped over to the table and your heart sank, it was an angel blade. The grip on your own blade tightened; the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you whirled, the figure of Cas standing right behind you.  
_“You came. I knew you would.”_ He twitched his hand up and his blade on the table came flying towards your back, you ducked at the last second, instinct taking over and rolled out of the way. Castiel flung his hand up again, flinging your body into one of the walls, cracking the supersoaker’s tank with a sharp noise. All the holy water leaked out onto the floor running rivulets into the grime. You wheezed and bent over, trying to get up but Cas had you pinned in place.  A couple of bent shards of the plastic at your back dug in sending sharp jolts of pain through your body as you tried moving to get up. You took a single gasp of breath, managing to twitch a little under his power.

 _“You can’t resist trying to save me. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to make me alive again. Just like those Winchesters. Dean, Sam, they don’t care. Dean thinks you’re an idiot and Sam; he just wants to make you feel better. You want me back? You have a long way to go sweetheart.”_ He rose you up off of the floor, opening you spread eagle on the wall. His angel blade rested comfortably, easy in his hand. Once you got a good look at him, he looked as he did most of the time with his suit, blue tie and trench coat but his eye sockets looked empty, devoid of anything but an infinitely deep pit. A choked sob caught in your throat as he simultaneously choked you.   “C-cas... p-” You gasped for breath. “P-pleas...”

 _“What Y/N? Please what? Not kill you? Begging won’t save your life.”_ Castielslid you farther up the wall so your chest was level with his head, your body twitched under the strain of him keeping you pinned. You knew this was a trap the moment you saw him there, but you didn’t really care, all you could think about was what happened to your angel. He tilted his head and furrowed his brows, almost as if he were confused and barely, just barely you could see him inside, the real Cas, not some twisted nightmare. Something made him stop, angel blade a few inches from your stomach. Unfortunately, he still held you pinned to that wall and you were a few seconds away from blacking out. Just as your vision started to blur and rapidly tunnel into black, you saw him drop his blade, the utilitarian shiny weapon clanking on the concrete below. Castiel dropped you just as you passed out in his incorporeal grip.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing reader insert fic that I've been posting to my Supernatural writing blog on tumblr. Its slow going to write at times but I like where I'm heading with this. So far, its 6 chapters down, I've just been a bit lazy uploading them here! So, bear with me chapter 7 might be a while but I hope the wait for you will be worth it!


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